


A Tale of Fire & Gold

by Harthrien



Series: A Tale of Fire & Gold [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Angst, Drama, Drama & Romance, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Dwarves, Elves, Erebor, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fanfiction, Fluff, Half-Elves, King Thorin, King Under the Mountain, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-09-28 06:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10077383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harthrien/pseuds/Harthrien
Summary: This is the story of the most unexpected of journeys, with the most unlikely of company’s. It is the story of this journey, of the tales of a horde of gold, coveted and guarded by a dragon slumbering within the depths of the mountain of a broken kingdom; a kingdom of which is to be someday reclaimed by its people. But it is also the tale of strength, friendship, and love.  Where will this journey of a wizard, dwarves, a hobbit, and a half elf lead?





	1. A Contract

It was most certainly not the first thing that came to mind when arriving to the Shire. A land of peaceful, and merry people, that had not a single worry of the hardships of the outside world. This was not at all what she had expected for this rendezvous, especially not for a meeting that was supposedly of utmost importance. What was that blasted grey wizard thinking coming here, she thought to herself as she passed through into Hobbiton. Though she questioned the location, she had to admit that the land was beautiful, achingly so. Then why?

She rode her horse, and trotted through the quiet village seeking for what the wizard had left behind. Passing by several doors of the hobbit homes, she saw that they were all round and vibrant with colors. Some so vibrant they bounced off of the light from the moon. Moving past a few more doors she looked ahead to see a home that rested at the peak of a hill. A light hanging on the outside, and it lit the entire doorway setting its green colored door aflame. With a curious tilt of her head she steered her horse into a quick gallop up to the little home.

Once at the top, she slowed the horse to an even stop stepping down from the saddle, and tying her horse to the small wooden gate. Proceeding up the small path, she stood in front of the door and took a moment to marvel at the craftsmanship, impressed by the superb skill and refinery of the wood. Inspection now done, her eyes landed on the glowing mark that had been placed upon the door. This must be the place then, she thought, and then knocked her knuckles on the wood.

While waiting for it to open, her ears could hear the rumbling of voices, and the clinking of dishes coming from inside. She must be late then. The door shifted and peeled open to reveal a flustered and disgruntled looking hobbit standing in front of her. 

He cleared his throat trying to compose himself and said, “Can I help you?”

She responded, “Is this your home mister hobbit?”

“Bilbo, my name is Bilbo Baggins, no mister hobbit, please. And yes this is my home.”

“Of course. Mr. Baggins, is there a man by the name of Gandalf in your residence?” She asked politely. 

“Yes, yes there is. May I ask, are you here for a meeting, or uh, gathering, as well?” He questioned with a gleam of frustration lingering in his eyes.

“Indeed, I am. May I come inside?”

He appeared about to say no, but he nodded and stepped aside to allow her in. She removed her cloak and handed it gently to the hobbit that was then staring at her with wide eyes.

“Hurwen!”

Turning to the voice that called her name, her eyes landed on the tall figure of her wizard friend Gandalf making his way through the small space to greet her. He smiled down at her and shook her hands together in greeting.

“I am pleased to see you could attend, my friend. I apologize for not informing you further on the arrangements of this meeting.” He explained.

“It’s quite alright, Gandalf. Though I must admit that a hobbit hole is not what I expected for this to have taken place in.” She admitted to him.

“Well, I have my reasons.”

“I’m sure you do old man.” She jested. 

He chuckled at her teasing then escorted her into the dinning room of the home, where a brood of dwarves sat round a table eating, drinking, and laughing with each other in the center of the space. They were all so…different. Young and old, hair and beards tailored and styled to their liking. Some were noticeably muscular, others more round and rotund. And each and every one of them stuffing food and ale into their mouths without interruption. The hunger of these dwarves was astounding.

“Ori,” Gandalf called from beside her, “would you be so kind and gather a plate and a glass of wine for miss Hurwen, please.”

The noise in the room went silent as everything at the table came to a complete stand still. They all had their eyes on her—staring—with the same wide eyed look that Mr. Baggins had on her only moments before.

“Is there something on my face?” She questioned.

“Your hair…” A young, dark haired, dark eyed, and short bearded dwarf muttered. His hair was a deep dark brown, his beard closely shaved, framing his youthful, and sharply defined features. He wore dark—almost black—leathers; attire that was accustomed to fit well to his dark features.

“It’s almost like…” A golden haired dwarf sitting beside the dark haired dwarf spoke. His features were lighter, and a bit softer, with a gentle roundness to his features that displayed his own young youth. However his own beard was much longer, with two short braids hanging down along each side of his mouth.

“A bright flame!” The dark haired one spoke again.

“Yes!”

A few more agreed with them, either nodding, or mumbling their thoughts to one another. The only thing that she could think to do was to smile kindly, and awkwardly. Her hair was indeed an odd shade of reds, and oranges that stood out quite obnoxiously at times. She held no deep distaste or loathing for her hair, it did however become a nuisance for her at times, and at the moment it was in fact not entirely favorable to her. 

“Yes, my hair is quite…odd.” She said to the two, who smiled in merriment.

“Your hair’s not the only thing that’s odd.” A rough voiced, partially bald, two-axed dwarf spoke from across the table.

The two young dwarves smiles shriveled into grim expressions at the comment. The atmosphere of the entire room darkened and dulled from the previous joy and joking that had occurred only a short time before. She was not accustomed to dwarves. She had never really been around enough of their kin to learn of them and understand their ways. However this dwarf was not making a very good impression with this first contact. 

“Is there an issue, Master Dwarf?” She questioned the male.

“I said that your hair is not the only thing that is odd about you,” He spoke clearly and with conviction, he continued, “You’re an elf.”

“Your point?” There was tension now, becoming thick as the two glared the other down. Neither relinquishing the battle of strengths and sure will.

“What could an elf have to do with dwarven business? You’ve no right to be here.” The dwarf spat.

“My right to be here is of no concern of yours, Master Dwarf. I am here at the request of my dear friend, Gandalf the Grey. Should my time here be cut short, it shall only be by his word.” Her voice was strong, powerful, unwavering, and unyielding as she fought with the will of a being that almost matched her own.

His attention turned to Gandalf, and said, “An elf should not be here.”

“Then it is unfortunate for you, Master Dwalin, that her claim is true. She will not be leaving.” Gandalf explained to the dwarf, Dwalin.

A disgusted look crossed Dwalin’s face before he settled back into his chair and went back to nursing his mug of ale. Quite the first introduction, if I do say so myself, she thought. She allowed herself to relax as she accepted a seat offered to her beside a white haired dwarf. He smiled politely at her, and she smiled back with a slight bow of her head in respect and thanks. From her peripheral another, much younger, dwarf approached her with a plate and drink in hand.

“Food and drink, milady.” He spoke gently handing everything down to her.

“It is Ori correct?” He gave a quick nod, and she smiled thanking him for bringing the refreshments. 

Looking at the plate in front of her she could see that the food was absolutely stunning. Picking up a piece of meat, she took a slice of cheese and ate the combination, almost moaning at the wonderfully fresh and savory tastes of the meal. Everything was utterly delicious; the hobbits lived very well out in these lands; the desire to reside here growing more, and more for her. 

The white haired dwarf spoke from beside her, “My name is Balin. And I recall our wizard calling you Hurwen, yes?”

“That is correct. Pleased to meet you, Master Balin.”

“Oh, just Balin will be fine.” She nodded as she took a sip of her wine. “I must apologize for my brother, he is not overly fond of strangers, and sometimes forgets his manners.”

“It is quite alright, Balin. It takes a lot more then misplaced prejudice to deter me.”

“You have quite a fire in you, lass.” She looked to him with a raised brow, causing him to chuckle. “I did not mean that as a jest, milady.”

“Hurwen is fine, and there are no worries. I know that my hair has caught the attention of most of your companions.”

“It is not a bad thing to have at one’s disposal.”

“It works well for when my enemies become so distracted by the illustrious colors, makes it easier to cut them down.” He looked at her with a small smirk, and an impressed gleam shining in his eyes.

He laughed once more, “You see…fire.” 

She smiled and laughed along with him; at least there was someone at this table who could at least make an attempt at being civil. The rest of the group, including the two young dwarves who had first spoken, were more then content to not pay her any mind and continue on with their joking and drinking. The hobbit however was still in a frantic frenzy. Complaining every which way a dwarf passed by him, worrying over his dishes, the invasion of his pantry, and the invasion of his home.

Guilt formed in the pit of her belly. She felt bad about intruding into this hobbits house and she understood his displeasure. All of this was so sudden, and it was clearly not fair to the hobbit.

She rose from her seat gathering all of her dishes, and walked to the foyer where the hobbit was speaking with Gandalf. 

“My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?”

“What’s the matter? I’m surrounded by dwarves. What are they doing here?” Bilbo demanded.

“Oh, they’re quite a merry gathering once you get used to them.” Gandalf responded.

“I don’t want to get used to them.” Bilbo stressed. “Look at the state of my kitchen. There’s mud trod into the carpet. They’ve pillaged the pantry. I won’t tell you what they’ve done to the bathroom; they’ve all but destroyed the plumbing. I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!”

Ori stepped forward, “Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?”

“Here you go, Ori. Give it to me.” Fili answered. He took the plate from his hand and loosed it into the air at his companion, Kili. He spotted the dishes in  
Hurwen’s hands and did the same, causing a new state of frenzy out of the poor hobbit.

“Take that back. Excuse me. That’s my mothers West Farthing pottery. It’s over a hundred years old!” He yelled to them but to no avail. There was then a melodic and synchronized thumping, banging, and clanging coming from the dining room.

Hurwen looked and saw that they were grasping forks and knives, using them as instruments with their fists on the table. It was quite an amusing sight to behold, though not at all so for their host. 

“Can you not do that? You’ll blunt them.”

They paid him no mind as they continued their synchronized work. Singing and tossing dishes, passing them on to one another to make their way into the kitchen. From the corner of her eye she could see Gandalf standing against a corner wall smiling, and chuckling with amusement as he puffed smoke from his pipe. She found that even she could not stop the small smile that formed on her face as the joyous atmosphere spread through the entirety of the home. The plates all started to become stacked neatly at the center of the dinner table. By the end of the song there were towers of bowls, plates, and with one final dish the song ended. All were laughing and clinking their mugs of ale together.

Three loud knocks sounded from the foyer. The room fell quiet and the atmosphere changed from joyful to serious. Hurwen’s eyes lifted to Gandalf’s. The wizard withdrew his pipe and spoke, “He is here.”

He? She thought. She was unaware that there was to be one last member to have not arrived. Curiosity got the better of her as she followed them all to the foyer to answer the door. When opened she was stunned, for there standing a few feet before them all was Thorin Oakenshield. Her eyes glared at the back of the wizards head for a quick instant, then looked back to the dwarf still standing outside. 

Strong features, powerful jawline, a long straight nose, short beard, dark hair with small streaks of grey, and clear sparkling blue eyes. The man was attractive; obviously, one would have to be blind to not see that. Though she was now questioning the true purpose of this meeting, and why Gandalf requested her, of all people, to attend.

“Gandalf,” Thorin greeted, stepping into the foyer, “I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way—twice. Wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.” He explained while removing his cloak. The man moved with royal grace.

Bilbo squeezed his way through at the mention of his door. “Mark? There’s no mark on that door it was painted a week ago.”

“There is a mark, I put it there myself.” Gandalf paused briefly catching his breath, then gesturing towards Thorin, “Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“So, this is the hobbit. Tell me Mr. Baggins have you done much fighting?” Thorin questioned.

“Pardon me?” Bilbo exclaimed.

“Axe or sword. What’s your weapon of choice?”

“Well I do have some skills at conkers, if you must know. Though I fail to see why that’s relevant.”

“I thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

With Thorin’s comment they all laughed, clearly making fun of the hobbit, and causing anger to stir deep within Hurwen’s heart. The dwarves all made their way back into the dining room, leaving Gandalf, Bilbo and the still unnoticed Hurwen in the foyer. Hurwen leaned over towards Gandalf and whispered to him, “A Hobbit home, a group of dwarves, and Thorin Oakenshield. There are quite a few things you did not mention Gandalf.”

“There is still more to learn.”

She sighed, and then turned her attention to Bilbo who was still staring on in confusion of the introduction that had just occurred. She walked to him and finally drew his attention back into focus, “Shall we go join the rest of them?” She asked him politely. He simply nodded, and walked with her into the dining room.

“What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?” Balin questioned Thorin.

“Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms.” Thorin answered. 

“All of them!” Balin cheered, and the rest of the group sounded their agreement.

“And what did the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?” Dwalin interjected, “Is Dain with us?”

The room fell silent as they all waited for the answer. He finally said, “They will not come.” All of them sagged in disappointment at the news, while Hurwen was still clueless to what was going on. Her eyes kept drifting over to Gandalf for brief moments, hoping to be given some kind of answer.

Thorin continued, “They say this quest is ours and ours alone.”

“You’re going on a quest?” Bilbo inquired from where he stood behind the grey wizard.

Gandalf intercepted the question, “Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light.”

The hobbit hummed then turned and disappeared somewhere within the house to fetch what Gandalf requested. Once gone, Gandalf began speaking while pulling out a piece of parchment from his robes and spreading it out on top of the table, “Far to the east…over ranges and rivers…beyond woodlands and wastelands…lies a single, solitary peak.”

Hurwen could not see what was printed on the piece of paper, though she could gather, from her place against the wall outside the dining room, that it was a map of some sort. Bilbo then returned with a candle in tow and leaned over to see what was being presented.

“The Lonely Mountain.” The hobbit slowly read out loud. 

It was like someone slapped her. She pushed herself away from her spot against the wall and rushed to stand at the head of the table on the other side of the still seated Thorin Oakenshield. She was furious and outraged at the revelation.

“Are you mad?” She bellowed at Gandalf who looked to her with a shocked expression marring his face, but she could see in his eyes that it was only a façade at her outburst.

“Hurwen, allow me to explain-“

“There is no need to explain. I know exactly what you all plan to do, and I must say that I think it is the most idiotic and absurd thing that I have ever heard.”

“And what is it,” The blue-eyed dwarf spoke as he rose from his chair, glaring daggers up at the woman, “do you think you know, elf?”

Though the man was admittedly handsome, he lacked greatly in his levels and degrees of tolerance. He was beautiful and fierce on the outside, but on the inside he was hard and cold. She was not a fool. She knew prejudice and discrimination very well. Having lived for a very long time she was no stranger to the hate, intolerance, and ignorance of other beings. She was aware that it was no small thing either, however, it did not stop her from thinking that those things were nuisances from time to time. But she had been reminded many times in her existence of the dangers that all of those things can lead to, so she never allowed her mind to be rid of that thought.

“I know many things Thorin Oakenshield. You are the son of Thrain, and son of Thror, and you are King Under the Mountain by your birthright. I know very well of the story behind the destruction of the great kingdom of Erebor, and the desolation of that mountain, by the fire-breathing dragon, Smaug. A dragon that still slumbers deep within that mountain as we speak. So I suggest that you tread lightly when you question my intelligence, King.”

The tension had reached and exceeded to its boiling point as the man and woman glared each other down. Everyone in the room had their eyes pinned on them, watching the entire exchange between the two, and it was Balin who finally intervened in the battle of daggers.

“It would be best for us all to take a step back, and take a moment to collect ourselves before things become out of hand, yes?”

Hurwen took one step back, allowing herself to calm down, though she still held eye contact with the king for a minute longer before directing her attention to Gandalf. “You hope to venture into that mountain?”

“That is the hope.” He answered.

“How do you even expect to get inside? I wouldn’t expect the front gates to be a viable option. You’ve no way of entering.”

“That is not entirely true.” He raised a hand and flipped a key into his fingers. It was metal, perhaps made of iron, strong, and crafted precisely. The object, Hurwen noticed, transfixed the dwarf king.

“How came you by this?” Thorin asked.

“It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping; tis yours now.”

Gandalf passed the key over to Thorin, who grasped it in his hand and observed it closely. She recognized a flash of nostalgia, and sorrow gleam in his eyes. He noticed she was watching him, and gripped the key tightly in his fist working a blank mask over his expression.

“If there is a key, there must be a door.” Fili commented.

“These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls.” Gandalf explained.

“There’s another way in.” Kili smiled, patting Fili on the back.

“If we can find it. But dwarf doors are invisible when closed.” The wizard sighed. “The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it but, there are others in Middle Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage,” He paused to look at Bilbo, then quickly at Hurwen, “but if we are careful, and clever. I believe that it can be done.”

“That’s why we need a burglar.” Ori exclaimed.

“Hm, a good one too.” Bilbo responded. “An expert I’d imagine.”

“And are you?” A redheaded dwarf asked.

“Am I what?” Bilbo said confusedly.

“He said he’s an expert.” Another dwarf said, laughing gleefully. 

“Me? No. No, no, no I-I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a single thing in my life.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material.” Balin commented.

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” Dwalin added.

They all began sounding their agreements going back and forth with their comments on Bilbo Baggins. As they all spoke, their voices began to collectively grow higher and higher. And as their volume grew, it matched in time to what sounded like rumbling thunder. None of them had noticed at first, but the rumbling continued to increase. It was coming from Gandalf, Hurwen noticed, and there was a dark cloud, or possibly a mass, that protruded from behind him. It encased the space, dulling the light, and casting the room in a dull shadow. He stood from his chair catching all of the dwarves attention.

“Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is. Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And, while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to him. Which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company and I have chosen Mr. Baggins.” The wizard took a moment to pause, then continued, “And, Lady Hurwen as the fifteenth.”

Thorin looked to Hurwen once more, and she looked on right back at him. If this was to be a battle of dominance then so be it. Hurwen would let no man hold power over her.

Gandalf went on, “There’s a lot more to him then appearances suggest. And he’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including himself.”

“And what does the woman have to offer?” One of the older dwarfs’ questioned.

“More then you all could ever know.”

Hurwen was surprised by this comment. She never really put emphasis on her actions, never felt the need to since she just did what was right. However, it was refreshing to hear this come from one of her dearest friends. Though he was also the most difficult, and mischievous to deal with at times.

“You must trust me on this.” Gandalf spoke lowly to Thorin.

Thorin took moment to breathe in deeply, then responded, “Very well. We will do it your way.”

“No, no.” Bilbo attempted to interject.

“Give them the contract.”

“We’re in. We’re off.” A hat-wearing dwarf said.

“It’s just the usual. Summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth.” Balin explained to the to-be members,  
holding out the contract.

Hurwen reached for it first, unfolding the document she read, well more glanced then read, the text. She didn’t need to read all of it, she was fully aware of the dangers that she would face once she signed that contract. But she threw caution to the wind.

“Hand me a quill.” 

“What?” All of them were staring at her with surprised expressions. Good, that means they underestimated her.

“I’m signing the contract. Hand me a quill.”

“Just like that?” Kili asked.

“Just like that.” She stated.

“Maybe you should take a moment to think things over. Get your bearings. See if you can obtain the proper supplies.” Balin suggested.

“If it’s weapons you’re concerned about Master Balin, there’s no need.” She reached around behind her to her lower back, where she found the handle of her skillfully hidden blade. She gripped the handle and pulled it from its hiding place within her leather gear. She laid it on top of the table, than laid the contract beside it. “Now hand me what I need to sign.”

And they did just that. Once the quill and the ink was assembled and brought before her, she did not hesitate in writing her name. It was official with her signature at the end of the contract her fate was sealed. She was now a member of the company of Thorin Oakenshield. Reaching for her blade, she gripped the handle meaning to retract and place it where it once was. But a fairly large, partially armored hand reached forward the same time she did, and wrapped itself around her forearm. She followed the length of the arm attached to the offending limb, and found its owner to be none other than Thorin Oakenshield.

She knew when she signed the contract, that her life had been changed. Defeating Smaug would be no small feat, and there would be many more trials before they reached the mountain. Undoubtedly. However, she was unaware of the biggest obstacle that she would have to face. And that obstacle happened to be the leader of the company in which she was now obligated to. Thorin Oakenshield King Under the Mountain, of this she knew, would be the one part of this journey that would become the hardest thing to overcome.


	2. An Adventure

There was an unmistakable presence, or force more like, that had grown between Hurwen and Thorin. They had only just met each other, and in such a short time had made an impression of one another that was not at all very friendly. There was tension that derived from their anger. With such strong personalities it was only inevitable that tensions would rise. However, its escalation was quite shocking, even to Hurwen herself. 

She had crossed paths with many people in her life and she had her fair share of spouts and disagreements. But this was the first time that she had ever felt so fiercely, and so passionately to stand against an individual. This dwarf had awoken something deep within her, and she was not sure what it meant. It was not comforting, and she did not like being unsure of her feelings, her thoughts, everything. Most of her life depended on her being absolutely certain of what to do, and what was to come, and it was that certainty that enabled her to make the right choices. But Thorin Oakenshield had awakened a mysterious thought in her mind, and she feared it in her soul.

Though Thorin at the moment had other ideas. He was not pleased to see that there was an elf maiden standing in the hobbits home when he arrived. A bit of a shock, but faded quickly into anger and bit of distaste. He knew when he met with the wizard before hand that he could expect anything to happen, however he would not deny that he would try his very best to remain in control, and to accomplish what needed to be done. 

Reclaiming Erebor, and taking back what rightfully belonged to him and his people, that was what mattered. This quest was their only chance of extinguishing others claims to the mountain and the gold that still lay inside it. The dragon Smaug had not been seen for years, decades. Rumors had been stirring, and now there were others eyes that looked to the mountain, seeking to obtain what did not belong to them. There was only one choice left, travel across the land, reach Erebor, and fight for what was rightfully theirs, even if fighting a dragon is what it took to finish all of this. This was the only thing that he was concerned about.

But this elf had put a bit of a damper in those plans. He did not want her there, and he had no intention of taking her along. The wizard, of course, was adamant on her presence, and for some reason there was a part of him that wanted to see what she could be capable of as well. He was stunned at his own reaction, and the thought as it crossed his mind. His curiosity got the better of him, and his mouth spoke the words before his mind could stop him. So here they were now, with a fourteenth member.

They had all dispersed from the dining room, and scattered themselves around the house. There was a bit of lingering awkwardness that was left over from the interaction between Thorin and Hurwen. After Thorin released his grip on her arm, they drifted apart.

Poor Bilbo, as soon as he got his hands on the contract and read the description of what this journey would entail, should he choose to join along, he fainted. Who wouldn’t when there was a high possibility of being incinerated? But he seemed to be recovering well from the shock of it all, and was speaking with Gandalf in a small room a little ways out of ear shot. Though Hurwen was sure that Gandalf was doing his best to convince the hobbit to be apart of this adventure. 

Hurwen made herself comfortable on a bench that was pressed up against the wall in one of the hallways. Near the end of the hall stood Thorin and Balin, who were speaking to one another about their quest. She wasn’t planning to listen to them, it wasn’t her intention to eavesdrop on their conversation at all, but here she was listening to every single word.

“The odds were always against us. After all what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toymakers.” Balin chuckled humorlessly, “Hardly the stuff of legend.”

“There are a few warriors amongst us.” Thorin said with a hint of a smile spreading across his lips.

And there was no way that she could lie about this it was a beautiful smile. 

“Old warriors.” Balin corrected.

“I would take each and everyone of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them they answered. Loyalty, honor, a willing heart, I can ask no more than that.”

This was a different side of the king that Hurwen was seeing. She knew nothing about him other than names, and titles. But this a side of him that revealed at least a portion of who he is. He cared deeply for all of these dwarves, and it was clearly something that ran deep within him. It somehow seemed to soften him. Softer. But, he was no less stubborn. 

Balin stood, “You don’t have to do this. You have a choice. You’ve done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains. A life of peace, and plenty; a life that is more than all the gold in Erebor.”

“From my grandfather to my father this has come to me.” Thorin raised the key in the space between them. “They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me.”

“Then we are with you laddie.” Balin patted him on the arm. “We will see it done.”

That was where their conversation ended. Her eyes were able to catch on to the rest of the dwarves as they all began to file one by one to the living area of the house. She was entirely confused, however that was the least of her worries at the moment. For there was a king, that was now making his way towards her. With all that she had been through in her life, with all of the battles that she had endured, and the most difficult of individuals that she had dealt with, it was odd for her to think that Thorin Oakenshield was greater then all of those hardships combined.

She remained seated as the dwarf king stood towering over her. Everything about him fit his royal title; regal, graceful, intimidating, and angry. Hurwen thought it came from the freshly reopened wounds of the damage that had been done my Smaug. But she was not naïve. He was angry, he was angry at her, at what she was.

“You wish to speak with me?” She asked him, a little perturbed at the slight wobble in her voice.

“You’re the last person that I wish to speak to. Unfortunately, you are now under contract, and are a part of this company. These shall be the only words that we will have with one another for this entire journey.” He said, voice oozing with disdain. 

“Say what you must then, king.” Her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back against the carved wooden wall and waited with rapt attention for his next utterance.

“Then allow me to make it clear, you do not belong here, and I’ve no doubt that you don’t have much to offer. Your display was arrogant, and childish. It is completely unbefitting a true warrior. You’ve no tact, and your performance was distasteful. It would be wise for you to stay out of the way, or I would be forced to deal with your inadequacy.”

She was completely silent after the King’s tirade, and allowed him the brief satisfaction of his attempted intimidation over her. Finally, she let her arms rest at her sides as she stood. A full head taller then the might king, she stared down into the deep fierce blue eyes that glared up at her. And she responded in kind.

“Then allow me to make this clear. I’ve no intention of interfering with your quest. I think it a fool’s errand to even attempt traveling to that mountain, let alone going inside it. However, as you so eloquently stated, I have signed on to the company, and so I will complete my duty and get you to the mountain. But once you reach Erebor, do not count on me even approaching the soil for you shall go on your own, and the dragon can have you for all I care.”

“Is that a threat?” He snarled deeply.

She leaned down so their faces were mere inches apart and whispered, “It is a promise that I most assuredly can guarantee.” She slowly peeled back then said, “Now, the time has grown late, and I’ve things to prepare for the journey.”

She stepped around him and made her way to the front door. She grabbed the handle and turned one last time to face the king. He was staring after her with the same fierce flame that had been blazing in his eyes the entire night.

“Good evening, King Under the Mountain.” And with that farewell, she opened the hobbit door and stepped out into the night.

…

The next morning all of the dwarves and Gandalf had gathered their belongings and began preparing themselves to set off on the first day of a long journey. All of them got on their ponies and began making their way out of Hobbiton, just as the sky began to brighten with the sun. On their way through the still sleeping hobbit village, the dwarves spoke and argued with one another in low voices over their loss of a burglar, and a noticeably missing elven member of their company. 

“She is late.” Dwalin voiced.

“I’m sure she will arrive soon. We haven’t fully left the hobbit village, so there is still some time.” Baling responded.

Dwalin grunted, not impressed, and seemingly uninterested on the matter. Whether she came or not was not his concern. Thorin was having similar thoughts himself. If she had chosen not to tag along with their company it was certainly no skin off his back. Honestly, she not showing at all would truly be more pleasing and he hey may sleep easier at night having the ones that he truly trusted remaining by his side. That’s what he kept telling himself at least. Each of the dwarves had their own opinions on the elf; some were more pleasant in comparison to Thorin’s. But this would not deter their duty.

“She’ll join us, or she will not. Either way, it is of little concern.” Thorin commented, causing the others opinions to die down to a low dull.

“I’m glad that you think so.” A voice sounded. All heads turned to the voice, and there stood Hurwen. At the very end of the path out of Hobbiton, sitting atop her horse and staring at the company who had finally gotten themselves to the end of the village. Hurwen was wearing the same leather armor she had from last night, however there were a few more articles of clothing that were now strapped to her person. More leather along the length of her arms, hands, torso, and there was an inkling of chainmail peeking through the fabric of her shirt. There were also a few more daggers that were attached to her person as well, and two long swords that were tied along the underside of the horse’s saddle.

“I know my absence must have amplified your anticipation. I hope that I didn’t disappoint anyone.” Hurwen spoke in a polite tone, with a hint of snark directed at one particular dwarf.

Thorin remained silent, simply not looking to her and strolling along past her as if she had said nothing. She could only stare in irritation at the male’s back as he rode ahead with some of the dwarves following on after him. Some smiled pleasantly at her while others chose to ignore her, or at least act like they hadn’t seen her at all. Balin was the one who rode up to her and smiled up widely at her.

“Glad to see that you could make it, lass.”

“Well at least someone is a little pleased to see me.” She smiled.

“He doesn’t mean anything by it. Some of his…dislike, is misplaced, just give it time.” He told her.

“I’m not sure that time will make any change to his thick head.” He chuckled at that: he could not disagree with her on that stance. She asked, “Where is Mr. Baggins?”

He sighed, “I’m afraid we do not have a burglar. Mr. Baggins decided not to come along with us, and I do not blame him.” His pony started moving on ahead to catch up with the rest of the group, and Hurwen followed along with him, intrigued at the new development.

“Did he say why?”

“He didn’t need to. Living a life full of comfort, food always readily available, no need to worry about wars, who would want to disrupt a life of bliss?”

“Not everyone can remain ignorant of the world forever.”

Balin was silent at that statement. It was true in a sense. Living in a land full with people who were unawares of the world outside of their small hobbit village of course would be pleasant, it would, to some, be a dream. However, a sheltered life only seems to drape a false veil over eyes that are too willing to ignore the realities that live outside of their own. Hurwen had learned the hard way to embrace adulthood sooner then most would think. It was just unfortunate that Bilbo had chosen not to take on this quest; she thought that it would be something that would better him, and help find a part of himself that he hadn’t known before. But, he had made his decision, and that was that. Now Hurwen was stuck having to deal with a pigheaded king that had an ego that matched the size of his pompous ass attitude. This trip was truly going to be splendid.

…

There were all long gone from the hobbit town by the time the sun reached high in the sky. The large group traveled down a path through dozens of trees, the man gabbing on back and forth with one another. Hurwen’s ears only picked up on all of their voices as white noise as she focused all of her attention on the forest around her. It was not very thick; there was enough space and distance between all of the trees that one could see past to the far horizon if one chose the right vantage point. However, that was more due to her keen eyes then anything else.   
But it was a beautiful wood regardless, full of life, with strong and healthy life growing in it. She could pick up on birds off in the distance, and the skittering of small furry little creatures scurrying along in the branches, and down on the soil below. It was certainly busy, and a bit exciting to say the least, today. Maybe something exciting would bring a more enlightening spark to the group at some point.

“Wait! Wait!”

Hurwen turned behind her and spotted a familiar hobbit running towards them; backpack on his shoulders and contract in hand. They rest of the group came to a steady stop when they saw Bilbo running to catch up. He came to a stop alongside Balin and held out the contract to him. “I signed it.” He said with a great big smile on his face.

Balin took the parchment from him and gave him a quizzical look before taking out a pair of spectacles and reading the fine print. After a long moment, Balin finally said, “Everything appears to be in order. Welcome Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Glad to see that you could make it Mr. Baggins.” Hurwen said to Bilbo.

“I’m glad that I could make it, Lady Hurwen.” He said in a breathless voice while still smiling widely.

“Give him a pony.” Thorin commanded, causing Hurwen’s eye to twitch in irritation. Bilbo looked at her a bit confused before quickly realizing what Thorin had said.

“No, no, no, no, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure I can keep up on foot. I’ve done my fair share of walking holidays. Even got as far as Frogmorton once—dughooh!” Fili and Kili swiftly grabbed Bilbo by the straps of his pack and plopped him unto an unoccupied pony. He seemed a bit out of place, and Hurwen couldn’t help the small smile forming on her face at the sight of his cautious gaze at the small horse. She pulled back a bit to ride alongside with him.

“I hope you’re ready for everything that is to come, Mr. Baggins.” She said kindly and gently, hoping not to scare him off like he had been last night.

“I’m ready for it, an adventure.” He responded, pausing before saying, “I think.”

Hurwen chuckled, and looked ahead her eyes landing on the back of the dwarf kings head. “Then let us hope that this adventure will change us for the better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I do NOT own The Hobbit

**Author's Note:**

> I do NOT own the Hobbit. This is a fan-fiction story, scenes have been altered.
> 
> If you also prefer to read this on Wattpad, this work is on there as well. Here is a link:
> 
> https://www.wattpad.com/story/99026738-the-tale-of-fire-gold


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